Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Zhou Yubai’s apartment was in a high-rise by the river.

It was as spotless as a showroom.

The color palette was gray and white, the furniture all clean, sharp lines. Even the slippers were sorted by color.

Men’s on the left.

Women’s on the right.

I stood in the entryway, looking at the pair of light beige slippers, and suddenly found it funny.

“You really came prepared.”

Zhou Yubai pushed my suitcase into the guest room.

“Even a contract marriage has to follow basic domestic logic.”

I looked around.

“Can we split the fridge into sections?”

He looked at me.

I said, “I don’t eat celery, I don’t drink sugar-free sparkling water, and I don’t want to open the fridge one day and find it packed with nothing but your fitness meals.”

Zhou Yubai was silent for two seconds, then opened the fridge door.

“Left side is yours. Right side is mine.”

And so, we officially began our secret cohabitation.

The fridge was divided left and right.

Laundry detergent was divided by scent.

Time slots for the living room projector had to be written in a shared calendar in advance.

Even the trash cans were divided into more than recyclable and non-recyclable-there was also “her delivery boxes” and “his coffee grounds.”

For the first week, we were like two roommates who were almost excessively polite.

When I came home after working overtime until midnight, he would be in the study drawing up designs.

When I passed by, he would give me a nod.

“You’re back.”

I would nod too.

“Still up?”

Then we would each return to our own rooms.

Not a single unnecessary word.

Until one night, I stayed at the office until two in the morning.

The Nan’an Project had suddenly been sent back for review.

By the time I came out of the conference room, my stomach hurt so badly I could barely straighten up.

After I got home, I was afraid of waking Zhou Yubai, so I didn’t even turn on the lights.

But the moment I felt my way into the entryway, the living room lights came on.

He was standing at the kitchen doorway in dark gray loungewear, his hair a little messier than it was during the day.

“Stomachache?”

I froze.

“How did you know?”

He didn’t answer. He turned and went into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, a cup of warm water and two stomach pills were placed in front of me.

“The medicine is in the second drawer. I read the instructions. You can take it.”

I stared at him.

“You went through my things?”

Zhou Yubai paused.

“You left the medicine box on the dining table last week.”

“You have a pretty good memory.”

“Your face is white from the pain.”

After he said it, as if realizing the words sounded too intimate, he added, “We still have to deal with my mother together tomorrow. If you collapse, it’ll affect the execution of our agreement.”

He made me laugh in spite of myself.

“Don’t worry. I won’t delay Mr. Zhou’s escape from the misery of an arranged marriage.”

He didn’t respond.

The next morning, before I left, there was a bowl of porridge on the dining table.

Still warm.

Beside it was a sticky note.

Drink less coffee.

His handwriting was beautiful.

Sharp and restrained.

I pinched that note between my fingers and looked at it for a long time.

In the end, I crumpled it into a ball and threw it in the trash.

Then I walked to the door, only to turn back.

And picked the crumpled note back up.